A Clean Slate
by fantailsky
Summary: Helga's memory has been wiped clean. No memories of her past at all. All she knows is she's woken up pregnant, in a hospital, with a man, Arnold, calling himself her husband. Everyone around her seems to know something, but wont tell her. She knows she should love Arnold, but, how can she love someone she doesn't even remember? Can she love him again? Or will she move on . . . ?
1. Chapter 1

(I don't own the characters of Hey Arnold!)

She tried to cough, but her throat felt blocked. Her lungs felt empty. She went to lift her hand to try to remove the object gagging her, but her arms wouldn't move. Her eyes closed again.  
When she opened them next, she still felt like gagging, and coughed again. This time though, there were two nurses. At least, she thought they were. One kept taking on the appearance of a meercat, the other a giraffe. They were talking over her, then talking to her, explaining that they were just going to wipe her down. They went back to chatting to each other. She tried to talk, but couldn't. Her lungs were feeling heavy, too.

Every now and then they would look down at her and talk. The meercat nurse then moisturised her body after they dried her off. Her eyes closed. When they opened again there was another nurse looking in at her, sitting in the doorway.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Helga shook her head then tried to reach for her mouth. "Oh, I know, honey, but I can't remove it just yet. We need to get your oxygen levels back up again and be sure your lungs will work on a c pap machine."

Helga looked at her arms. "Yes, the sedation is to keep you from pulling out the tube again," the nurse told her kindly. "Your husband has been coming to visit everyday, but you always seem to be asleep."

Helga moved her head and winced when she felt a pinch in her neck. But she had no more energy to try to reach up and find out the cause. So far, she worked out she was in a hospital. But she didn't know why. In fact, she didn't know anything much. She frowned. 'The drugs,' she told herself. She looked over to see two bags hanging, with tubes, one looking to be going to her neck, the other to her hand. She closed her eyes again.

. . .

Arnold walked into the house and looked around. This was the time he hated. Being alone. Being alone meant he had time to think, and thinking was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Arnold, are you okay?" a sweet sounding voice asked from the living room. He looked up to see her standing there. The fireplace was roaring, and she was wearing a thin negligee. She looked beautiful. He looked away, feeling ashamed of himself.

"She's pregnant," he finally admitted. He heard Lila take in a sharp breath.

"When did you-"

"Just before the nieghbor came to tell me she'd been hit and an ambulance had already been called," he told her. "That's why she had set up that elaborate meal. To tell me the news that she had passed the first trimester."

"And the baby is okay?" Lila asked. Arnold just nodded. Lila let out a breath she didn't even know she had been holding in.  
"She's waking for longer periods too, but I always seem to just miss her," he said sadly. "I'm going to have a shower and go to bed."

. . .

She woke up, starving! And with a strange man standing next to her.

"Helga, your awake," he said, excitedly. He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. "I've been here everyday, hoping to catch you awake."

She frowned at him, then looked over to where a nurse was watching them.

"They checked on the baby," he told her. "They don't know how you did it, but it's still there, still alive. And growing. They're keeping a very close eye on it, but your 15 weeks along now."

Baby? There was a baby? She touched her stomach and looked at him. He nodded, smiling.

"Why didn't you tell me you had come off the contraceptive?" he asked softly. Then he shook his head. "Why am I asking you. You can't even talk."

"It's cruel," the nurse said. "We have the doctor coming up to see if we can take her off the ventilator. Her oxygen levels are rising, but we'd hate to take her off it, only to have to put it back in."

"What will happen next?" he asked.

"She will be put on a c-pap machine," the nurse explained. "Then, if it all goes well, we will eventually move her to just oxygen."

The nurse smiled at them, then left the room.

"Helga, I am so sorry," he told her, bending his head down to the bed. "I am so, so, sorry."

Helga did nothing.

She didn't know what he was sorry for.

Sheesh, she didn't know who he was.

She didn't even know who she was.

. . .

"I see no reason why she can't be taken off," the doctor said, smiling at the nurses. "Get a c-pap machine, and get it out."

A nurse left then came back with another machine. It was a weird looking machine, almost like a baggless vacumme cleaner with water in it, and a thick tube and prongs on the end. Arnold watched as the nurse hooked it up, tapped on the buttons, and the machine came to life. He watched as condensation appeared on the inside.

"You might want to hold her hand," she told him. The doctor left, and another nurse came in. Arnold grabbed her hand and looked at Helga. She looked worried. "No cough."

. . .

"Cough, cough," the nurse was commanding. Helga tried to cough as best she could when she felt what felt like a serated knife being pulled up the inside of her throat from her lungs. It was the most painful feeling she could ever remember having. Once it was out she continued coughing, and brought some fluid up. She happened to look up and saw a look of horror on the mans face. Then she was having prongs jabbed into her nose and felt warm damp air being blown up there.

The nurses cleared everything away extremely fast.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, leaning in close. She nodded. "I finally had the carpet cleaned."

She listened impatiently as he told her about everything that had been done with his house. He must have seen it too, because he stopped.

"What's wrong?" he asked. She motioned writing. "Oh, okay, just a second."

She watched him look for a pen and piece of paper, then handed them to her, with a board to lean on.

_Who are you?_ she wrote. Her throat hurt too much to talk. She showed him.

He looked with disbelief at her for a second.

"Arnold," he told her. "Your husband."

_I don't remember, sorry,_ she wrote. She could feel her cheeks heat from embarrassment. Who forgot their husband? Then she felt annoyed.

"It's okay," he said. "They gave you a lot of drugs. You got hit by a car. But the baby is fine."

_What baby?_

He looked to the door, causing her to look that way, too. But no one was there.

"Helga, your fifteen weeks pregnant with our baby," he told her. "You know what? I'll be back in a second, I'm just going to go get a nurse."

A few minutes later a nurse walked in and checked the machines she was still hooked up to.

"Do you know where you are?" the nurse asked. Helga nodded and wrote hospital. "Okay, do you know your name?"

Again, she nodded and wrote _Helga._

"Did you remember that name yourself, or because that's what we have been calling you?" she asked.

Helga felt her eyes sting, then wrote a word that wasn't what they wanted to hear, judging by the looks on their faces when she showed them what she wrote.

_You._

. . .

"She doesn't even remember being pregnant!" Arnold yelled. "How does someone forget something like that!"

"Mr. Shortman, please, if you don't calm down, we will have you removed. This is an ICU ward. We can't have you upsetting other patients or distracting the nurses."

"I just . . . "

"I know, it is frightening and unsettling, but it may just be a side effect of the drugs that were used," the nurse said, trying to reassure him. He sat down. "We have the doctor coming back and we will assess whether she will need to see a neurologist or psychologist."

Arnold ran his hands through his hair.

. . .

"They think she has retrograde amnesia," Arnold told her.

"What does that mean?" Lila asked.

"She doesn't remember the events leading up to the accident, but she can remember everything afterwards," he explaiend to her.

"Oh, my, I didn't know there was a type of amnesia," she said.

"There's a few, it turns out," he said absently, looking at the ceiling. "But so far, she doesn't remember anything before the hospital."

Lila raised her brows, then looked down at her plate. "So, she doesn't remember being married, or . . . you know . . . us?"

Arnold shook his head. "No. No, she doesn't appear to remember that. Or even me, for that matter. I told her Phoebe had asked after her, and she just asked who."

They were quiet for a moment. The Lila spoke up.

"Maybe this is a sign," Lila told him. "This could be just what we need."

"She's pregnant, Lila, with my child," he snapped.

"We could make a case for having the child taken away from her," Lila said, starting to sound excited.

Arnold looked across at the woman, who only three weeks ago he was planning to leave his wife for. How could she be excited at the idea of taking, not only a woman's husband, but her child, too?

"No," he said. "I can't do that to her, not now."

"Arnold-"

"No!" he yelled, getting up and storming from the room, up the stairs, and slamming his bedroom door behind him. He looked at the neatly made bed. Helga had made it that morning, as she did every morning. He hadn't slept in it. He could smell her perfume in the air, her shampoo on the pillow . . . Lila had invited him to sleep with her, but he couldn't bring himself to. It was so easy before, but so hard now. He sat down and heard a knock on the door. Looking up he saw Lila look in on him.

"Arnold-"

"You need to be gone, Lila, before i bring her home," he told her.

"I'm-"

"Please, Lila, just . . . please," he pleaded. Lila walked further in, and knelt before him.

"Are you seriously going to give up your chance for happiness, for a woman who doesn't even remember you?" she asked.

"She's my wife," he chocked out. "Our vows-"

"Where was your concern for your marriage vows when you were fucking me?" she demanded viciously. "You weren't worried about vows, or Helga then, were you?"

"Just leave, Lila," he said. He didn't look up until he heard the door to his room slam. He felt bad. He got up and opened the door just as Lila walked out of the room she had been staying in, her suitcase behind her. Her face was stained with tears, her face blotchy. "I'm sorry."

She just shook her head.

"I feel sorry for Helga," she told him. "I hope she gets her memories back Arnold, so she realizes she deserves better than you."

She pushed past him, dragging her suitcase behind her. He listened to it thud, thud, thud down the stairs before finally the front door opened then slammed closed.

And he was alone.


	2. Chapter 2

It took so much effort to lift a fork to her mouth. Arnold sat there watching her eat, helping her take a drink. She was grateful for his help. She was able to whisper now, though her throat still hurt, two three days after having the tube removed. It was so good to get real food into her stomach. But so hard to eat, even just chew.

"How do we humans get so fat?" she asked herself.

"What do you mean?" Arnold asked.

"It takes so much energy to eat," she said, eyeing up the plate of food and gearing up for another mouthful. Arnold chuckled next to her.

Arnold looked his wife over. Her lips were fuller than he has ever seen them before, in thanks to the constant fluid intake she had had to keep her hydrated. He had kissed them already, though Helga had not kissed him back. He had brought in a photo album of their wedding. It had made Helga cry.

"I just can't remember it," she'd sobbed, looking at him with tears in her eyes and staining her face. "Why can't I remember?"

"Time," he said, only half hoping that was true. "You'll remember again, trust me."

He had taken the album home.

Four days after being put on the c-pap machine, she was taken off and put on an oxygen tank. And treated with anti-biotics for a sinus infection she blamed on the machine.

"They're supposed to make you better," she complained. "Not worse."

Arnold had just smiled.

They're going to release you, today or tomorrow," he told her.

"Really?" she asked, feeling excited. He nodded.

"But I need to talk to you first," he said, sitting down. "I don't want to lie to you. I slept with Lila, you found out, and that's why you ran off and got hit. Apparently you just didn't even look."

"Whose Lila?" she asked. Was she a friend? Well, obviously not, because friends wouldn't sleep with friends husbands. So . . .

"She is a girl we grew up with. She was staying with us til she got herself back on her feet," Arnold explained. "We . . . it wasn't going so great for us for a while. I wanted a family, and it seemed like you didn't. I thought we were wanting different things, yet Lila seemed to want the same thing. A family. But . . ."

Helga sat there, feeling strange. She should be angry, raging mad, surely. Her husband had slept with another woman! Yet . . . nothing. 'Oh shizz,' she thought, looking down at her hands. 'What if it all comes back suddenly?'

"I'm sorry, Helga, but I needed to be honest," he told her, looking down. "Better that you heard it all from me, rather than someone else."

"Was it an ongoing thing?" she asked, curious now. She touched her belly.

"Not physically, but emotionally, I suppose it was," he confessed. "It was a once off. It took a lot of dutch courage to get to that point too."

"Dutch courage?" Helga asked. "I don't-"

"Alcohol."

"Oh, you were drunk?" she asked.

"No excuse," he told her. "I've asked her to leave. She wasn't happy, but . . . I didn't want her there when you came back. I didn't think it would help your recovery."

"Arnold," she started, reaching out and touching his shoulder. He turned and looked at her. "I don't remember anything. I'm not angry-"

"Yet," he said.

"Yet. And maybe when everything falls back into place, I will be," she said. "But at the moment I don't feel anything. Not angry, not sad. You could have never told me and I would have been none the wiser."

"Until your memory came back. Then you'd be pissed," he told her. "Look, I'm being honest now, because I don't want problems later."

"Well, thanks, I guess," Helga said, sitting back. "So, about them releasing me . . ."

. . .

In the middle of the night, severe pain in her abdomen woke her up. She cried out in pain, and reached for the buzzer to buzz for a nurse. After a few minutes, a nurse poked her head in.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"No!" she gasped. "I'm in pain!"

"Where?" she asked, coming in. Helga touched her stomach. An odd look came over the nurses face. Then she leaned over and hit another button. Pulling back the sheets the nurse closed her eyes at what she saw. She covered Helga again.

"You called?" another nurse asked.

"We may have a miscarriage in progress, can you please send for a-"

"Miscarriage?" Helga asked in disbelief. "But, everyone said the baby was fine!"

The other nurse left to call whoever needed calling.

"There was a chance this could happen," the nurse told her sadly. "But we will double check, because the bleeding and pain may be from something else. Hopefully we'll get a scan done."

Helga started to weep. How could this happen?

Arnold.

Now she felt sadness and anger. His stupid actions had led to her running onto the street, being hit by a car, and now, possibly losing the baby. She could probably forgive him the rest, but not the loss of the baby.

. . .

They sat in silence for a long time before either one said anything.

"We could try again," Arnold suggested. Helga looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Are you kidding? I don't even know who you are. And you've admitted our marriage wasn't going well," she said. "Why would I want to bring a baby into a mess like that? With someone, I don't even remember knowing?"

Arnold's shoulders slumped. He'd stuffed up big time. He'd lost his wife, his first chance at a family and why? Because he couldn't keep it in his pants. He talked to everyone else about how he was feeling, Lila in particular, but not his wife. How could he fix it? 'You can't fix it', a little voice in his head whispered. 'I'm not giving up!' he argued back.

"They said they'll release you tonight," he told her. "I've got everything prepared for your homecoming. Phoebe will be there."

Helga shook her head. Phoebe was supposed to be her best friend, had been since "forever". And yet, Helga couldn't even recall her face, even when shown a picture of the two of them. Then something occured to her.

"Where is my family?" she asked. "My mom, my dad? Do I have a brother or sister? Cousins? Where are they?"

Arnold thought about his answer carefully. How did he tell her about all that?

"They passed away a few years back, Helga. Your sister is still alive, but she's working in some orphanage in Europe somewhere," he told her. "You don't really talk to her. At all. It's complicated."

"So I have no one but you? Is that what your saying?" she asked. Arnold frowned.

"No, you have Phoebe," he reminded her.

"I would have had a baby, too," Helga hissed. "But we all know that's not going to happen now, don't we?"

"It wasn't my fault, Helga," he said. "So many drugs were used to keep you alive . . ."

"And why were they using drugs to keep me alive again?" she asked.

"Because you didn't look before you crossed the street," Arnold growled. "I'm not taking all the blame for this Helga. You walked out in front of that car without looking, I didn't push you."

They both glared at each other for a long time, and only looked away when a nurse came in with her discharge papers.

"I need you to sign these," she said, handing them to Helga. "It's just to say that you are choosing to leave the hospital of your own free will. You are welcome to stay another-"

"No, I want to go home," she said, quickly signing the papers.

"Okay, well, I'll get this all finished up and your free to go," she told her. They watched as the nurse left the room. Arnold got up and wheeled a wheelchair over.

"I can walk," Helga snapped. Arnold shook his head.

"Hospital rules, besides, it's a long walk, and your not steady enough on your feet yet," he told her. She had spent the last week building back the strength in her legs to hold her weight and walk. Muscle wasted fast when not used.

She let him help her into the chair, and put her stuff on her lap. It had all been put into a big brown paper bag. Half an hour later the nurse came back, handed her a discharge form and waved them off.

Arnold wheeled Helga all the way out to the car, and helped her in, throwing her stuff in the back.

"You have physio three times a week," he told her. "I'm taking extended leave from work to help you get there, just until your able to get there on your own."

Helga said nothing. She just stared out the window, taking in the scenery the whole trip. She was hoping that she would remember something. They drove past shops and houses, even a school, but Helga recognized nothing. She was starting to feel anxious. She was going "home". She would be alone with Arnold, a man who despite her being married to, growing up with, she didn't remember, didn't know. She had no family to fall back on. A friend she had no memory of, so she couldn't ask her. She started feeling isolated, alone, and scared. She glanced over at Arnold, who was looking straight ahead.

For now, he was all she had.

. . .

Phoebe rearranged the sausage rolls on the plate. Again. Gerald watched as his wife went over all the food again.

"She might not be hungry, Phoebe," Gerald warned her.

"We're talking about Helga here, Gerald," she told him. "She will be. And I have all her favorite foods."

Gerald grimaced. He understood his wife's nervousness. She had been devastated to find out that Helga didn't remember her. She hadn't been able to visit Helga in those early weeks. And then she got the feeling that Arnold didn't want her to visit quite yet. At first she had felt resentful, but Arnold had explained that he didn't want to overwhelm her too soon. Then two hours ago he had called to let them know that during the night Helga had lost the baby. Phoebe had looked over at a shopping bag sitting on the coffee table. She had gone out and bought some baby clothes, in neutral colors, and a baby blanket and small soft toy.

She had since put it in the trunk of their car, out of sight. She shed tears for Helga's loss. She couldn't even begin to imagine how Helga was feeling. Arnold was saying she didn't even remember being pregnant!

"They're here," Gerald said, getting up and going to the front door. Phoebe rushed to his side and looked out eagerly. She gasped. Helga had always been very thin, but she seemed thinner somehow. And pale. Her hair was hanging limp, something Helga had never let happen to her. She'd always had bright, bouncy hair. Not able to hold back she walked down the steps as Arnold got her stuff from the back seat.

"Hello, Helga," she said. The lack of recognition in Helga's face hurt. "It's me, Phoebe."

"Oh, your Phoebe?" she asked. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she said, coming forward and wrapping her arms around her. She felt Helga's arms wrap around her too, and felt her shoulder getting damp, She pulled back and saw tears in Helga's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I can't remember you, and i feel awful," she sobbed.

"Oh, Helga, don't," she said. "Come on, I've made all your favorite food."

Arnold came up behind them, while Gerald held the door open. Phoebe kept her arm under Helga's arm and around her back, acting as support. Arnold and Helga removed their shoes and coats, and Phoebe led her into the living room.

"How was the ride over?" Gerald asked.

"Quiet," Arnold told him. "Very, very, quiet."


	3. Chapter 3

Later that night, Helga timidly entered the bedroom and looked around. The bed was made, the dressing table was a bit messy, though. She walked over to it and looked down at the nail polishes, hairbrush, with long golden strands trapped in it, an open lipstick, several perfume bottles . . .

She looked up at the mirror. She saw a pale face, with big, sad blue eyes staring back at her, blonde hair looking greasy and limp, lips colorless. She looked terrible, but her skin was clearer than it had ever been she was sure. It was like porcelain. She opened a drawer and saw acme treatment bottles and creams, and wrinkle creams. She looked again at her reflection. There were no wrinkles. She shook her head, and stroked the silk nightgown that was hung over the chair that sat in front of it.

"I haven't been hanging around the house long enough to really clean up," Arnold explained. He watched her carefully, looking for, hoping for, a flash of recognition to show on her face, in her eyes. Anything.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Helga said, looking at him in the mirror. "So where am I sleeping? In here, or in another room?"

"In here," Arnold said, sitting down. "Why would you be in another room?"

"I wasn't sure how you would feel at giving up your bedroom," she said, picking up a perfume bottle and giving it a sniff.

Arnold looked confused, she noted. She turned to him.

"You weren't expecting me to just jump back into your – our – bed with you, did you?" she asked, incredulous.

"I actually hadn't thought that far ahead," he admitted, looking at the bed, then at her. "I, uh . . . you can have the room."

Helga looked away, sighing. Now she felt like she was putting him out. But where else could she go?

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down at the carpet. It needed to be either really badly cleaned, or replaced. 'Replace it,' she thought, ideas for colors coming into her head. She could almost see herself flipping through a book of coloued carpet . . .

"Were we planning to change the carpet?" she asked suddenly, making Arnold smile.

"Yeah, we were," he said. "We were trying to decide between a cream or blue."

"Blue," she whispered, then looked at him. "Or maybe a pink or red."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "We've been through this, and we decided either cream or blue."

"Yeah, but maybe . . ."

"Cream or blue," Arnold said firmly. Helga stared at him a moment. No. She wouldn't let him have his way. She felt a spiteful little person kicking her from the inside of her chest. 'I always get what I want, I always get what I want,' seemed to be that little, grumpy person's mantra.

"We'll see," she said, looking at the curtains.

"There's nothing wrong with the curtains," Arnold grumbled. "Or the wallpaper."

Helga looked at him and blinked. More conversations they had obviously had and she just couldn't remember. She smirked.

"Like I said, we'll see."

. . .

Arnold came into the kitchen later that night to see Helga staring at the cupboard.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked, checking his phone. He had messages from Lila and Gerald. He deleted Lila's without looking at them, and opened Gerald's.

"I want to bake a cake, and I thought the tin would be in here, but it's not," she mused.

"It should be," Arnold said, looking up. "It's where you keep your baking things."

"Well, it's not here," she grumbled. "There's plates."

Arnold walked over and took a look. Yep. Someone – Lila – had obviously changed things around.

_"There's just no organization to the cupboards, Arnold,"_ he remembered her saying. _"How does Helga find anything?"_

"Lila must have re-organized the cupboards while you were in –"

"She was taking over my house before I was even in my grave?" Helga asked, spinning on him. Arnold took a step back. "Cripes, at this rate I'm surprised she didn't kick me out of my hospital room and take that, too!"

They both were stunned at her outburst. There was a really dark, angry feeling radiating inside Helga, and she didn't like it. It was actually making her feel ill.

"I need . . . a bath, or something," she said, feeling tears come to her eyes. She fled the kitchen, leaving Arnold standing there, frowning.

Could feelings still be present even when the memory wasn't? He needed to find out. He would hate for anything like what happened to happen again.

. . .

Helga sunk down into the hot water, scooping bubbles into her hands and blowing them away. She smiled. She had taken a few deep breaths, hunted around for soap, found lavender oil and put it in a burner with some water. It took her a little while to figure out that the mirror on the walk opened and there was a shelving unit behind it with the candles and lighter. Then she found bubble bath and shampoo and conditioner. She sank her head under the water, then brought it back up, feeling so much cleaner already. She stared at the ceiling fan and heat lights and thought.

_'I wonder if I have a job?'_ she asked herself. _'What do I do?'_

She put it aside as she washed her hair and rinsed. Then sadness overcame her as she thought suddenly of the little life she had been carrying. If she did have a job, was she planning to take time off? She closed her eyes tightly, not wanting the tears to escape, but the stinging feeling turned painful, and a sob escaped her before she could stop it. Then it was a floodgate. It got so bad she started to hiccup. Knocking on the door caught her attention and she tried to hold it all back again.

"Helga, are you okay?" Arnold called through the door.

_'No!'_ she wanted to scream. _'I lost my baby, my little baby, all because of you!'_

"I'm okay," she said. She heard him try the handle to come in.

"Are you sure?" he asked again.

"Yep, peachy," she called back, wiping her face over. She heard jiggling happening at the door, then the click as it unlocked and opened. A bit. But Arnold didn't come in.

"Keep the door unlocked, Helga," he told her. "That way I can get to you in a hurry if you need me."

Helga felt like smacking her forehead. 'Stupid', she thought. Arnold was right. She still didn't have one hundred percent of her strength back yet, and had she slipped or fallen she could have hit her head again and drowned. She had been warned not to take another head hit by the doctor.

"You wouldn't survive another one," he told her.

"I forgot," she called to him. Part of her wanted to call him in to wash her back, but her brain kept saying over and over, 'You don't know him!' It was a bit of a disappointing feeling really. She had her "new" brain arguing with what she figured was her "old" brain. One saying 'He's your husband and you were pregnant, he's seen you naked before," while the other was saying "But we don't know him, or remember him, he can't just see me naked!"

She sunk her head under the water again, hoping to drown the voices.

. . .

Arnold lay awake in the room down the hall listening to the sound of the house as it settled. It had been a pet peeve of Helga's when they had first moved in after the death of his grandparents. His parents hadn't been keen on taking on the responsibility of a Boarding House . . . or any house, really. His year as a teenager living with them had been educational, but a nightmare. His parents had itchy feet, constantly needing to be on the move. Which was exciting at first, but that wore off after a while, and he had returned to live with his grandparents. He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

He remembered Helga's distant look and closed body language. He had asked again if she were okay, and she had stared at him blankly before saying "Yes", in an almost robotic way. He knew something was wrong. But she had closed herself off from him and wouldn't say a word. It hurt. Arnold was the kind of person anyone could come to with problems, for help, which is how Lila had ended up staying with them. She'd broken up with her boyfriend and had been kicked out. The kicker had been that it was Helga who had invited her _in_ to the house.

And what did that act of kindness get her?

Betrayal.

. . .

Helga curled up into a ball, feeling spasms in her lower stomach. She held her hands there and started to cry. Her baby should be in there right now, feeding, growing, developing. But it wasn't. Instead her womb was empty, and she had had the baby's remains planted in the backyard with a tree. The pain in her heart hurt so much for that lost little person. Would it have been a girl? or a boy? She hadn't asked at the time, but now wished she had. She counted the weeks. By now, she would have started to feel movements . . .

_'Stop it, Helga!'_ she yelled at herself. _'Your going to make yourself sick and depressed!'_

_'I can't help it!'_ she wailed back in her mind. _'I want my baby back!'_

She started to cry quietly, not wanting to make any noise that would attract attention.

And after a while she fell into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

"Are you ready for your first day of therapy?" Arnold asked. Helga nodded. "Well we better get going then."

Helga followed him out to the car then waited while he unlocked the door for her. Getting in she turned the heater on. It was chilly, though there was no snow. She felt sad that she had spent all summer in hospital. She would have much rather have been on the beach.

The ride to the clinic was silent, neither Arnold nor Helga knowing or having anything to say to each other about anything. The silence continued as they parked and entered the clinic. It was Arnold who went to the desk to let them know that Helga was there. Helga took a seat and picked up a magazine, flipping through it. Arnold came and sat beside her quietly. When she was called in, Arnold tagged along, then stayed in the background as the therapist and Helga worked together. Every now and then he was asked a question and he answered. In the meantime he eyed the man up. He would have been late twenties, early thirties, so not to much older than them. He had a deep tan, and striking blue eyes, and chestnut brown hair. He smiled and joked, and put Helga at ease. Arnold was envious with how well this man got Helga to go along with his directions, and get smiles from her and even a couple of laughs.

Was this a therapy session or a flirting session? he asked silently, starting to feel a glare come across his features. He abruptly left the room.

Neither Helga nor the therapist noticed.


	4. Chapter 4

Arnold returned to work earlier than he would have liked. He had been off for much too long, and funds were running dry. Six months, or close to it, he had not been working. So Phoebe took over. She had visited one day unexpectedly, and the tension in the air of the house was so thick, she was surprised to find the two of them still breathing. Helga confessed to her that Arnold was driving her crazy. He was always hovering over her, always making her eat, drink, get dressed.

"There's days I just want to sit in my pajama's," Helga whined to her. "But he's all _'You can't spend all day in your pajama's Helga.'_"

Phoebe eventually talked Arnold into going back to work and letting her take over for a little bit. He was reluctant, and it took Helga losing her cool with him to convince him that maybe it was a good idea for them to have space.

But something else was going on, as Phoebe discovered when she took Helga to her first physio appointment. Helga's therapist was very good looking. And she couldn't help but notice how well he and Helga got along. As the weeks went on, she noticed small things at first. A lingering look, or touch. A small smile, and flirty laugh. She started to feel uneasy about it all. But it really came to a head the day she had to drop Helga off, then go on to a job interview.

"I'll be back as soon as I finish there," she reassured Helga.

"It's fine, Phoebe, don't rush," she told her. "I don't want you screwing up your interview. Besides, today is pool day."

Phoebe nodded, helped her in, then left. She was already a bundle of nerves due to her interview, but watching as Helga followed her therapist into the office and close the door, she felt positively sick.

. . .

"Your friend is not staying today?" Colin asked her. Helga shook her head.

"No, she has a job interview," Helga explained, sitting down.

Okay, so have you been practicing your exercises?" he asked, rubbing his hands together to warm them up, before coming over to her. Helga nodded. "Would you be ready for the pool?"

Helga nodded. "My swimsuit is on under my clothes."

"Okay, then we'll make our way there," he told her smiling.

Helga's heart was beating fast. She wasn't going to lie to herself. She was very much attracted to this man. He made her laugh, and feel safe, and like she was just her. Arnold treated her as though she was going to break any second. She still grieved for the baby she had lost, though she kept it to herself. She'd found the scan pictures the other day and had cried. There really had been a little person in there. Remembering it, she felt sad again.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, looking her over. "You don't seem to keen."

Tears leaked out and she quickly wiped them away. "No, I'm fine, I'm just . . . I lost a baby while I was in hospital. I . . . I found a scan picture the other day and . . ."

"My sister had a still birth last month," he told her. "She was eighteen weeks along and had found out they were having a boy. She was devastated, too."

He came forward and took her hand. "Come on, let's swim it off."

Helga smiled and followed him.

. . .

Phoebe left the interview feeling confident in herself. And it was one less weight off her shoulders. Now, to go pick up Helga, and get lunch. She was smiling and playing her music loud, getting herself into an euphoric mood. When she arrived she was feeling happy with herself.

"I'm here to pick up Helga," she told the receptionist.

"Oh, they must still be in the pool," she said in surprise, looking at the clock and frowning. "Just take the lift down to B."

"Thank you," Phoebe said, making her way over to the lift.

"Please remind Colin her has another appointment in fifteen minutes," she said, just as a young man came in, limping.

"Will do," Phoebe said, smiling as the doors closed. She couldn't wait to tell Helga about her interview. When the doors opened she stepped out, expecting to see them in the pool, but it was empty. She could see wet footprints on the floor though. She followed them to a changing room, then stopped smiling. Did she hear what she thought she heard? She took a deep breath, and stepped into the room.

"At first she saw nothing, but then realized that was because what was happening was happening behind the wall. She tentatively made her way in that direction and peeked around the corner. She covered her mouth and stepped back out of sight.

Colin was balancing Helga against the wall, Helga's legs wrapped around his waist, her head dropped to the side, where Colin had buried his face into her neck. They were both naked, they were making the movements. Phoebe hurried out and back to the lift.

Helga . . . how could she do such a thing to Arnold? Then she realised something even worse. She had watched it unfold. She had seen the flirting, the looks the touches, how long had it been going on at this level? Those few times when she took a call, leaving them alone in the room. Or when she was busy job hunting on her phone, not going in with them. The doors closed and she hit one. It moved up a level, the doors opened again, and she went to the water cooler, poured herself a drink, and dropped into a chair.

Helga would never have cheated on Arnold! Never! She had loved him since they were small children. That was . . . twenty odd years now. How do you-

'She doesn't remember all that', Phoebe realized. It was another fifteen minutes before the doors to the elevator opened again, and Helga and Colin came out smiling and laughing. Helga smiled at her, but stopped when she saw her face.

"Phoebe, are you okay?" she asked. "Did your interview go alright?"

"I'll see you next week," Colin said into her ear, touching her back. Helga smiled up at him and nodded, making Phoebe's stomach twist.

It took only three months, but it appeared Helga had fallen in love with someone else.

. . .

Phoebe returned after dropping Helga off home. She couldn't help herself. She needed to stop it, any way that she could.

She practically stomped up to the receptionist and demanded to see Colin.

"I'll just see if he's available," she said, getting up and entering a room down the hall behind her. A second later Colin came out and gave her a smile.

"What can I help you with?" he asked. "Did Helga make it home alright?"

"Actually, Helga is what I have come to speak to you about," she said. "Privately." She saw uncertainty flash in his eyes.

"Of course," he said cautiously. "Right this way."

After they entered his office and closed the door, Phoebe went right on the attack.

"My best friend is sick, and married, and if you ever fuck her again, like you were doing down there today, I will expose you for it, and you will lose everything, I assure you of that," she threatened him.

"I see," he said. "So what-"

"Leave her alone, hand her over to a new therapist, something, anything, but don't you so much as look at her, or touch her, you hear me?" Phoebe said, getting as in his face as her short frame would let her get.

"Fine, I'll hand her over to my collegue," he said.

"Good," Phoebe said, backing down and then giving him a smile. "And this conversation? It never happened."

Colin watched as she sauntered from his room and smirked. Well, he had said he would pass Helga on to his collegue. But he hadn't agreed to not seeing her. And with him not being her therapist, there was less risk to his job. Actually, he suddenly couldn't figure out why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

. . .

"I thought we could take a trip this weekend," Arnold said, looking back at Helga. She was still sleeping in a seperate room to him. She was "uncomfortable" with the idea of sharing a room with him again. She was growing more and more distant from him, too. He was hoping that a trip to their honeymoon location might bring her closer to him.

"Where to?" she asked.

"The Lighthouse," he said, smiling. "We honeymooned there." Phoebe had come to him and suggested that he take her somewhere romantic and try to recreate the magic of those places. He'd figured what place is more romantic than where they had honeymooned?

Helga stopped eating and looked at him, shocked. "You want to take me to where we honeymooned?"

"Yeah, I've reserved us a room overlooking the ocean," he told her, smiling.

"Wait, is it an actual lighthouse?" she asked. She saw Arnold's smile falter for a second.

"Yeah, it is," he said.

"Wow."

"Yep."

Silence fell over them again. He had it all planned. A romantic weekend to sweep her off her feet. Win her heart. Grovel for forgiveness. Let her know she was the only one he truly loved and wanted to be with. To start a family with.

. . .

"Are we up very high?" Helga asked, looking up at the Lighthouse. It was cool in the shadow. They had been in the car with each other for five hours. Helga was so relieved when they arrived. She thought Arnold was trying to flirt with her, but she couldn't be sure. And it felt awkward. Despite all the stories Phoebe had told her, and what she had seen in photo's, read in old diaries, she just couldn't get that spark for him that was supposed to be there.

"Pretty high, but you can do it," he told her, smiling. "Come on."

She followed him into the building. She didn't really want to be here. She wished that she could just go home, leave him behind here. Her and Colin were trying to work on a way to spend a whole night together. Maybe a weekend. But as she had Arnold, Colin had a girlfriend. So it was impossible to see each other besides a few clandestine meetings. Arnold would think she was at the library. He would drop her off there. Fifteen minutes later, Colin would pick her up, and they would drive to a motel, or just a private spot in a park somewhere. It wasn't love, and she knew it. And even if it was, she wouldn't keep hold of him.

"Once a cheater, always a cheater," she heard an older woman tell another at a cafe. Helga glanced at Arnold who had also heard the woman, and he looked away.

"Do you think that's true?" she asked. "As someone who has cheated, surely you would know."

Arnold had given her a hard look. "No. Sometimes they learn their lesson."

Helga had shrugged. "Perhaps."

That had ruined what had been pleasant morning.

Back in the present she zoned out, but came back to earth when Arnold took her hand. She saw a young man picking up their bags and taking them over to a elevator. She eyed it sceptically. It didn't seem like there should be such a thing in a lighthouse.

"Seems out of place, huh?" she said, nodding towards it.

"It does, but it only takes up bags," he told her.

"Oh, thank God, I thought we were supposed to go up in it!" Helga exclaimed. Arnold laughed.

"No, we need to take the stairs," he told her. Helga groaned.

. . .

"Wine?" Arnold asked.

Helga was already so drunk, she just nodded. It had actually been a very nice night. They had had a nice dinner in the resturant that was next door. She had drank wince there. Then they returned to the room, where they discovered another bottle waiting for them. Helga was more than happy to drink it. Arnold sat next to her on the bed and handed her her glass, which she drank much to fast from.

"Slow down, Helga," he said, laughing.

She smiled and set the glass on the side table and laid back, her head delightfully spinning, every muscle in her body relaxed. She breathed in deeply as she felt Arnold move on the bed so he was towering over her on his knees, looking down at her. She looked up at him through half closed, drunken eyes. He pushed some hair from ehr face.

"Your so beautiful," he whispered, leaning in and kissing her.

"Stop," she said, pushing him away. "I can't."

"I'm sorry-"

"No, no, I am," she said. She bit her lip. Oh boy, she hoped she wasn't going to regret this in the morning. But he had been upfront and honest with her about his night with Lila. So she should return the favor, right?


	5. Chapter 5

Helga pretended to be asleep, and listened as Arnold got up and moved around. She hadn't told him. She had lied and said she wasn't ready for that just yet. A few moments later she heard the door close and she turned her head into the pillow and started to cry. How was she going to do this? How long was she going to pretend? What was wrong with her? All she felt at the moment was deep sadness. Her chest ached with it. Her stomach felt permanently knotted. Sitting up she wiped the tears from her face and looked around the beautiful room. She wished she could remember being here with him. Maybe that was why she felt awful? That, and the niggling guilt she felt about running around on him.

But isn't that what he had been doing? He was actually going to _leave_ her for another woman.

_"Two wrongs don't make a right, Helga,"_ a man's voice said. She could see him, very quickly. A slim man, not old, but going bald. She could see him in a light green vest, standing in front of a blackboard.

"Mr. Simmons?" she whispered. Then it was gone. The image, the . . . the memory? Were things starting to come back? Well, why wasn't her memories of Arnold? She looked up as the door opened and Arnold came back in. He smiled at her when he saw she was up.

"I got hungry," he admitted. "Chips?"

"Do you know a Mr. Simmons?" she asked, not bothering to answer. Arnold frowned.

"Yeah, he was our teacher fourth and fifth grade, why?" he asked, sitting down. "Do you remember him?"

"I . . . think I had a memory with him in it," she said. She looked down at her hands.

"Of all people," he said, laughing. "Mind you, you stayed in contact with him even after leaving P.S 118."

"Why?" she asked. Arnold shook his head and shrugged. Helga sighed and looked down at her hands. "Maybe we should go visit him?"

"Helga, he passed away a couple of years ago," Arnold told her, sadness coming into his eyes. "We went to his funeral."

Silence fell between them as he sat down on the bed next to her.

"What's going on between you and that therapist, Colin?" Arnold suddenly asked out of nowhere. Helga looked up at him with alarm. Did he already know or suspect?

"What do you mean?" she asked, nervously.

"I think you know," he said, in a defeated voice. "Phoebe said something to me -"

"She told you?" Helga demanded. Arnold looked at her and nodded. "It's nothing serious, he has a girlfriend himself."

"So why are you with him?" he demanded. Helga heard the anger in his voice. She looked down at her hands again.

"I don't know," she admitted. "He makes me feel good, I guess."

"Your not even giving our marriage a chance," he accused. Helga looked up to see his eyes shimmer with unshed tears. But were they sad tears, angry tears? She couldn't read him, she should be able to read him, shouldn't she?

"Neither were you!" she yelled at him, a tear spilling over. "You were going to leave me because what? I wouldn't have kids? I wasn't perfect?"

"That was different!" Arnold carried on. "I thought it was love! I wasn't just sleeping with her because!"

There was that ugly feeling rising up again. Oh, she wanted to hurt him so much . . .

"We. Weren't. Sleeping," she hissed. "We were doing everything but!" Oh, she took great satisfaction with the look on his face.

"Your not denying it?"

"Why should I?" she said, shrugging. "You didn't".

He shook his head.

"BIt had been going on a while, Arnold," she said. "You don't just wake up, have sex with someone then decide to run away with them and start a family."

Arnold stood there, staring at her in shock. She wasn't wrong. He supposed emotionally he had been cheating. Helga had gotten so consumed with her work, and building her career, that she kept saying she didn't see children in her future. Obviously, she had lied. Or the baby was a complete accident. Lila, ironically enough, had been invited into their house by Helga. She'd just left her abusive boyfriend, and needed to start again. Her and her father's relationship had been strained, thanks to her ex, and Helga had felt bad for her. So Lila was invited to stay with them til she got back on her feet. That had been seven months before the accident.

"What happened, Arnold?" Helga asked. "Please, just fill me in and tell me."

~ ~ ~ ~ **Two Years Earlier** ~ ~ ~ ~

_"Arnold, I'm home!" Helga sang out, coming into the house, with Lila right behind her. "And I brought home a stray!"_

_Lila looked up at Helga, appalled that she would refer to her in such a way. Then again, Helga . . ._

_"In the den!" he called out._

_"Come on," Helga said, taking Lila's hand._

_"Are you sure Arnold won't mind?" Lila asked._

_"Of course not," Helga said. "He'll be happy to help out."_

_Entering the den, Helga saw her husband sitting in a chair, reading a book about something that would no doubt bore her to tears. She really wondered how the two of them seem to last. 'Must be the sex', she reasoned, smiling to herself._

_"Look who I found, all homeless and needing a place to stay," she said, pushing Lila in front of her. "Bad break up, no where to go, can we keep her? Just for a little while, oh please, oh please, oh please."_

_Arnold frowned at his wife, and looked at Lila who was glaring at Helga with a red face._

_"I'm sorry to intrude, Arnold," Lila said quietly, looking at the floor. "I'm just . . . in between places -"_

_"And jobs," Helga piped up. "So what do you say? Can we help her out a bit? Give her a place to stay til she's on her feet and all that jazz?"_

_"Sure, if she has nowhere else to go," Arnold said, looking back down at his book. He had a lesson plan to put together._

_"Great!" Helga cried out. "Come on, Li, let's go find you a room!"_


	6. Chapter 6

"So moral of the story is never help anyone out?" Helga asked.

"There's more, Helga," Arnold admitted. "A lot more."

"When did it start happening?" she asked, curious.

Arnold tried to think back. When had it begun? Probably about three weeks after Lila had moved in. He had found her crying in her room. He'd gone in and asked her what had happened and she had told him everything. Dropping out of University to live with her boyfriend. Becoming estranged from her father, the abuse at the hands of her boyfriend, including the time he let his friend rape her while he watched. Apparently that had been the final straw and Lila had taken off one night while her boyfriend had gone out with his friend. He hadn't tried calling her or finding her. She'd heard that day from someone they both knew, that he already had a new woman living with him. Just like that.

"All that abuse I put up with, Arnold. Cutting off contact with my father, my friends, and he didn't even love me," she'd cried.

Helga had known this story, but he repeated it to her.

"I felt so bad for her, and I guess I just became her confidante, and she became mine," he said. "We found we had a few common goals in life. A family being the biggest. I'd been at you for so long to have a family, but you just kept resisting. Then there was your career, you were so determined to get started . . . I guess, I just felt we were going down different paths . . ."

"What did I do for a job?" Helga asked.

"Journalisim was what you were trying to break into, but you were writing novels under a pseudonym," he told her. "A week after your accident happened, a letter came from a publishing company willing to publish your book. It should be out early next year. Depending on how the book is received and how you go . . . they may bring in a ghost writer. You've pretty much mapped out the plots. They'd just use someone to fill in the holes, I suppose."

"So, I'm a writer?" she asked, feeling excited. Oh, she hoped she could go back to that! Arnold nodded.

"Often you were out late though, trying to get a job you were after," he told her. "You came home angry one night, about six months before the accident, but I didn't know why til after the accident. Your boss had come onto you, and you'd rebuffed him, and he hadn't taken kindly to that, and had fired you. You were a temp at the time, so you had no legal options . . ."

Helga's skin started to crawl, and a vague memory of this man, putting his hand on her thigh and moving it upwards came to her.

"After that, you changed, but you kept on with your writing, and then you got a job editing at another paper," he said. "Lila and I were often at a loss as to what to do, so we'd order in food, watch movies together, just hang out. Then one day we kissed. And things kind of snowballed from there. We tried to keep it from you, but you were so distracted we probably didn't need to. I don't know what had you so distracted. Your book I guess. Lila and I just talked about what we wanted in our futures, and they seemed to run more together than yours and mine."

"So you didn't try to fight the feelings?" Helga asked.

"We did, but it's harder when you live in the same house. About a week before your accident was when we slept together. We had gone out to a movie, and you were saying you weren't well and didn't want to join us. You'd been tired, and grumpy and unwell for a couple of weeks by then, but you'd been to the doctor and he'd given you vitamins. Now I know it was just the early stages of-"

He cut himself off there. "I don't know when you changed your mind, and decided that the whole family thing was what you wanted. If it was what you wanted. I think Phoebe would probably be the best person to ask. I tried, but she wouldn't tell me anything."

"Well at least she can keep her mouth shut about something," Helga snapped. Arnold ignored her.

"We decided afterwards, that what we were doing wasn't fair to you. Or to us. You and I wanted different things, she and I wanted the same things, so we decided that maybe her and I should give it a go," Arnold said. "I chose that Friday night to tell you, and Lila stayed at the motel room. I was so nervous and scared of telling you, I came in late. And saw you sitting at the table, frowning and upset, and it was all set up romantically, with a huge envelope there. You were so upset when I arrived, and I apologised, then told you I had something to tel you, and you told me you had something to tell me . . ."

It was all unfolding behind Helga's eyes, she could see it now . . .

~ ~ ~ ~ **Night of Accident** ~ ~ ~ ~

_She was worried the food would go cold. She was worried that Arnold would freak out, even though he was always hinting at having a baby. What if, once faced with it, he'd changed his mind? After that horrible incident with Mr. Combs, she had realised that a career could end anytime. It had been so disheartening, to have put up with the sexual harrassment, and long hours, only to be dropped because she wouldn't spread her legs for the toad. She'd come home and Arnold ahd been there, smiling and happy. She didn't want to tell him. Why bother? It was over with. But she'd led the way to the bedroom that night, throwing all her anger and frustration into lovemaking. Poor Arnold even seemed a bit overwhelmed, but didn't argue or protest. When she had woken in the morning and popped out that little pill and looked at it . . . she shook her head, and dropped it, and the rest, in the small bin in the bathroom. Then rushed back and picked it out an hour later and put it in her drawer. Then threw them all, one by one, in the toilet. Arnold had been so patient and understanding of her, that the least she could do is bee as thoughtful back. And she had been feeling a little clucky . . .  
SO when she found out at five weeks she was indeed pregnant, a month after stopping she had gotten excited, and had planned a wonderful way to tell Arnold, but two days later she'd felt cramping and there was bleeding. She'd called her doctor to tell him, and he'd told her to come in and confirmed it was most likely a miscarriage and that all she could do was rest and in a couple of days, if it was still happening they'd do a scan. Three days after it started, the scan was held and it was confirmed she had lost the baby. She took that pain quietly, and said nothing to Arnold. But it had made her realize that yes, a baby was something she wanted. A family was something she wanted. She could do better than what her parents had done, than Arnold's parents had done. So she tried again, and this time kept it a secret from Arnold until a week after the first trimester was over.  
Only . . . her special dinner to announce it hadn't gone to plan. She'd cooked lamb shanks, a favourite of hers and Arnold's.  
He was late. And they started to dry out. But still, she sat and waited.  
Then he had arrived to tell her something, and had cut her off when she went to tell him, and told her that it wasn't working between them, they were on different paths, that him and Lila . . .  
She saw her future falling apart, her baby . . . oh, how could she tell him now that she was pregnant? She didn't want him to stay with her if he didn't love her, and only because she was pregnant! But she was too far along now, too attached to terminate . . . so she had just grabbed up the envelope, chucked it at him and ran from the house, down the stairs and went to cross the road. She hadn't even looked . . . how stupid was her last thought before darkness . . ._


End file.
